SOMEONE ELSE’S TURN

Three years after her classmate Johnny, 

who also loved dancing, 

dies in junior infants of cancer, 

my daughter’s in the back of our car after school, 

and we’re stalled at the lights, 

& we’re all looking out

at the afternoon sky over the Wicklow Mountains.

Wow, says my wife, the driver, 

see how those clouds

hang so low on The Sugarloaf, & the gold

of the sun right through them, like a crown

for the mountain? Isn’t it striking, 

so rich & so colourful,

like you’d see in a gallery?

Every year, says my eight-year-old daughter, 

when it’s Johnny’s Anniversary, 

the clouds float down

From heaven with Johnny floating 

down on them so he can see his friends

and family & say hi. 

Really?, say I out of curiosity, 

but also mild concern...

...What else happens on Johnny’s Anniversary?

Oh, says she, in the nighttime 

Johnny jumps out of his grave

and dances in the moonlight

to his favourite music

like Michael Jackson

for a while 

and when he finishes dancing the moon applauds

and so do the yews & so do the crows & the cows

and the toads & the ferns

and so do all the other dead people in the graveyard who’ve been

watching him dancing away….

And I say Really? Why’s that?

- Cos it’s someone else’s turn the next night 

and everyone has to get a clap & a hip-hip-hurrah

when it’s their turn

you eejit.